


Something Pink

by RedFive



Series: Nothing Sweeter [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Drunk Will, Drunk Will has a mouth on him, Drunk Will should probably shut up, Drunken Kisses Challenge, Established Relationship, Fluff and Crack, I like you living, M/M, Murder Husbands, Nurse Hannibal to the rescue, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Running for Mayor of OOC Town Apparently, Swear to God Will don't you dare puke on his shoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7235869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFive/pseuds/RedFive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two bored murder husbands go out for brunch, but one of them might not make it home unless he shuts up.</p><p>"The last four hours bled into each other like the colors of a watercolor painting. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment blue became purple then became red. Only two things were certain. Will had met the devil tonight, and the devil was pink."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Pink

**Author's Note:**

> A toast to my NYC Fannibals. I raise this glass of frosé to you since you're the reason we're all here watching this trainwreck happen.

The last four hours bled into each other like the pigments of a watercolor painting. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment blue became purple then became red. Only two things were certain. Will had met the devil tonight, and the devil was pink.

Frosé. It was exactly what it sounded like, and yet so much more: seventeen steps more. The end result was an unholy concoction of rosé wine, strawberry liquor, vodka, crushed ice, and a heaping dose of self-recrimination. 

It wasn't that Will hadn't enjoyed himself, far from it. Frosé was delicious. Plus, a bottomless brunch, outdoors, with Hannibal's undivided attention after three long, boring days inside was a welcomed distraction. It had rained all week, and Hannibal had been away for most of it restocking their pantry with the rare and "unorthodox' ingredients he liked to keep on supply. Sometimes Will would accompany him on these "buying" trips when it was implied there might be something in-line with his particular tastes, but if they only ate what Will preferred to catch, the supply would not be enough to keep up with demand. So Hannibal had gone off by himself leaving Will alone to his own devices, which usually meant isolation, a good book, and copious amounts of alcohol. 

Hannibal might be enjoying himself living luxuriously off the fortune they had stolen as they passed through the Cayman Islands into exile, but unemployment was starting to drive Will mad. He seized on any opportunity to get out of the house and opera rooms no matter how twee it was. Sure sipping drinks that came with paper umbrellas made him feel like a bored suburban housewife, but that hadn't stopped him from polishing off more than his fair share of the stuff.

They were still half a mile away from their townhouse overlooking the  _Côte d'Opale_ , when the drinks caught up to him.

Hannibal appeared fine, of course, despite having kept up with Will at the restaurant. Only a slight thickening of his accent indicated he had any kind of buzz at all.  _Jackass._

"How did this happen? How did I let you talk me into this?" Will asked barely able to stand.

To be honest, this wasn't entirely Hannibal's fault. (Okay it was barely Hannibal's fault.) However, he had been the one to restock the liquor cabinet most recently, which was enough to count as participation in Will's book. When Hannibal went shopping, a new bottle of fancy whiskey or bourbon always appeared for Will to try. Today, it had been a 25 year old bottle of Hakushu, and at the time, it had still been raining. Thinking that he'd be housebound again, Will had gotten an early start on the day.

It would be criminal to blame his current state of misery on something as divine as a $2,000 dollar bottle of whiskey. Much better to lay this misstep at the feet of the Pink Devil instead.

"What we have here is simply a matter of willpower and your lack of it. I warned you not to drink before we went out." Hannibal said supporting Will with his body as he guided them homeward.

Will groaned. In the two years they had been together, Will had begun to hate how many puns could be permuted from his name. "You know that's one thing the papers never got right about you. They made you out to be this humorless monster. They don't see you like I do—a smug, arrogant, self-congratulating dad joke."

Hannibal was only using one arm to support Will, which meant his other hand was free to reach across his body and pinch Will in the side.

"Ow!" Will hollered. He tried to jump away but tripped over his own feet and got tangled-up in Hannibal's limbs. They fell as one snarling, clawing mass onto the wet cobblestones. Will heard a splash, which was followed by a curse in Lithuanian. He didn't need to look to know what happened, and when Will sat up, he was already laughing.

Hannibal sat on the ground glaring at the sleeve of his camel brown blazer, which was soaked through and stained by a black sludge of unknown origin.

"Looks like the joke's on you," Will said.

Hannibal launched himself at Will. He managed to roll onto his feet and grab Will by the collar in one fluid motion. Will was yanked upwards and forced to stand. The monster of legend had woken it seemed.

"For someone who complains as often as you do about my spending, this does not seem like a laughing matter," Hannibal spat.

Will tried to shake his head clear, but it was a waste of effort. The motion only made him dizzy. He rocked forward and half-fell, half-embraced Hannibal. It felt like crashing into a brick wall.

Hannibal's body was rigid with anger, but after Will laid his forehead on his shoulder and nuzzled at the hollow of his neck, he relaxed. It was not a slow process, not like the melting of of wax. He was like a Jack-in-the-Box—coiled inside a container too small for his grandiosity.

When Hannibal sprang into action, it was to pull Will closer with one quick jerk. His posture softened and molded itself around Will until they fit together like puzzle pieces. "Your rudeness might one day give me an aneurism. You will be the death of me, I swear," Hannibal whispered.

"Tried that. Didn't work," Will mumbled and lifted his head. "Unless that's an invitation to try again, Doctor Lec--,"

Before he could finish, Hannibal was alternatively kissing and shushing him. There were several people walking by within earshot, and the world had not yet forgotten about Hannibal the Cannibal. 

"You are too loud, love."

Will didn't care. He had other preoccupations on his mind at that moment. Hannibal's lips were cool and sweet. Will sucked and nibbled on them and kept kissing Hannibal until he became pliant. Soon his tongue was inside Hannibal's mouth lapping up the tart sweetness that lingered on his breath. Warmth gathered in Will's abdomen and gradually sank lower down the length of his body, but Will's stomach suddenly pitched forward like it was trying to leap out of his body.

A wave of nausea rolled over him like the waters of the Atlantic. Will ripped his mouth free, turned away lest he anger Hannibal further by vomiting on his shoes, and bent over. "I think I'm going to be sick," he whined.

A note of unsung laughter hung in the air between them. Hannibal rubbed Will's back and instructed him to breathe through his nose. Soon the nausea was not so difficult to bear. "Hands that comfort. Hands that kill," Will murmured.

"What was that, love?" Hannibal asked.

"Nothing. Never mind. Don't make me puke."

"As you wish," Hannibal said and then he did the strangest thing. He began humming a few bars of what sounded like a lullaby. Will wanted to ask about it and to tell Hannibal how beautiful it sounded, but a second wave of nausea was creeping up on him.

"A gift from my mother," Hannibal said reading Will's thoughts like an open novel. "I sang it to Mischa when we were children," and he continued humming.

The danger passed quickly under Hannibal's care. "I think I'm okay now," Will said at last.

"Good. Let's get moving. We both need showers," Hannibal said grumpily and let Will lean against him as they began walking again.

"Showers, eh? Got any plans for the rest of the day, Doctor," Will said and gave Hannibal's butt a squeeze.

"I'm glad you asked. I intend to clean you up, remove all these clothes, and take you to bed immediately," he said huskily, "where you will sleep until you are sober."

"How droll," Will fussed. He had other things on his mind. Many other things in fact.

"Droll is good. You ought to be happy about droll. My earlier plan to restore your sobriety was tossing you into the Channel."

"That sounds like a page from **my** playbook. And what if I drowned?"

"From dust we were born and dust we shall be, only in our case, our second lives rose out of the sea. If you should drown, love, it would be an appropriate end to say the least," Hannibal said and squeezed him lightly around the middle. "I would follow shortly after, you understand. Even Stevens."

Morbid as it was, the idea made Will warm and content. There was a certain beautiful symmetry to it after their Fall. "And in time our bodies would breakdown becoming food and shelter for other bottom feeders like ourselves. We'd meet again as sea foam and travel the world. Together forever. Is that right?"

"Why Will," Hannibal said in the barest of whispers so that only he could hear his true name, "who knew you were capable of such poetry."

"Yeah, well, the papers were wrong about me too," he huffed. 

Hannibal laughed and nipped at his ear. "Come, let's get you home."


End file.
